(Tom? Are you ready?) Liliss asked me, softly.
(Nope,) I answered, truthfully.
We were outside in the driveway. It was a Friday afternoon. Jake wasn't home-probably at Marco's-and my parents were out as well. Which meant that no one would be there to see me make a total idiot of myself trying to remember how to play basketball.
Okay, I remembered the rules. It was the whole being out of practice because I-as me-hadn't practiced in nine months that was the problem. Even before Temrash had quit the team, he'd controlled me so tightly when he played that I couldn't feel any part of my body. Super tight control was hard for Yeerks, or harder than regular control, but he did it to make me suffer. I couldn't even pretend that it was me, then.
It had been three months since Liliss first infested me. Two and a half since she'd brought up the topic of me going back on the team, first just with me and then asking the coach directly if we could try out next season.
Next season meant that tryouts would be held in five months.
We hadn't practiced at all. In fact, we hadn't even dribbled the ball in the driveway. Whenever we looked at the hoop on our way inside, I could almost feel myself choke up, because as much as I wanted to play again, I was really, really scared that I wouldn't be able to.
No. That we wouldn't be able to.
Sure, I had a gift, but going nine months without practicing was bound to wreck my skills. At the very least, make them rusty.
At least, I'd passed the two hour mark with staying in control. After almost six weeks of mental exhaustion after an hour and fifteen minutes, I'd finally started to bump up again. Plus, without extended recovery time.
Also, playing basketball, or trying to, couldn't be a whole lot more exertion than running, right?
Physical exertion, anyway.
(You know, honey, I could start,) Liliss offered. (With gentle control.)
That meant that I could jump in whenever I wanted.
Or not, if I was...too chicken.
Yeah. Seeing where Liliss stood, as me, might help. If she was awful, well, I could either kiss playing basketball on the team goodbye for good, or just play with Jake. That was assuming that he would even want to play with me. Despite Liliss' attempts at repairing the damage Temrash had caused, Jake remained almost cold towards her.
I hadn't interacted with Jake since before my infestation. Or my parents.
It felt...too soon.
(Sure. Okay,) I agreed. (That seems like a good starting point.)
Liliss began to dribble the ball in my hands, and I could feel her access my memory-in a non invasive way-to know the right way to do this. I felt the familiar feel of the ball touching my palms as she alternated between my right and left one. One of my skills, before, was that even though I was right handed, I could play almost as well with my left hand. Made it easier to block interference on the court. If your opponent thinks that you're about to aim from one side of your body and you end up shooting or passing from another, it definitely throws them. Distracts them, too. In basketball, every second matters.
I could move, could take over whenever I wanted, but I sat back and let my Yeerk play. I could feel her excitement as she took her first shot. It was hardly a three pointer, but it went into the hoop. She paced around the driveway, still dribbling the ball, as she took a few more shots. All of them went in. Okay, so it was probably the same skill level that Jake had, when he had no competition, but at least she could shoot.
(Liliss? Try a three pointer,) I suggested, after about fifteen minutes of this.
Liliss gave me a mental nod. (All right.)
If I hadn't lived in the same house for most of my life, growing up playing the game, it would have been harder for Liliss to know what constituted a three pointer on our driveway. Basketball courts are marked, after all, so there's less opportunity for, well, semi-cheating. That being said, Liliss knew exactly how far to stand away from the hoop in order to, were the ball to go inside, receive the much longed for three-pointer.
Granted, it was just practice and there was no opposing team, so it would be more complicated than just playing in my driveway.
Still.
She held my breath and took the shot. The ball missed, but only slightly.
I felt more than a little deflated.
(I'll try again,) she offered. (You didn't always make every shot, even before.)
The last part was true, and teasing. In the "lightening the mood" sense, rather than attempting to crush all of my dreams.
I gave Liliss a mental nod. (Yeah, okay.)
I tried not to be too disappointed. Liliss was right, after all. We hadn't played in months, after all. It was only her first attempt.
(Tom, remember that an occasional missed shot doesn't mean you aren't any good anymore,) Liliss reassured me, as she retrieved the ball. (Just out of practice.)
(I know, I know,) I agreed. (Just...try not to miss this time.)
Liliss gave me a mental grin. (I'll do my best.)
The ball made it in the second time. And the third. And the fourth.
We were both grinning after the fourth.
(Okay,) I allowed. (Ready to try my jump shot?)
Liliss nodded-mentally, of course. (Now, remember, it's been awhile, so if it takes some time...)
(I know.)
Really, it would be a lot to expect either of us to be able to make it.
Still...
It took a few attempts, but she made it.
(Okay,) I repeated. (I'm not where I was before, but with enough practice, we can get there. I hope.)
(Do you want to try? On your own?) Liliss nudged me.
(Um...try a few more rounds, first,) I dodged. (I want to get a better feel for it.)
It wasn't a lie, not that I could lie to my Yeerk. More nerves. Plus, an unhealthy fear of playing on my own.
In ninth grade, I had to take Biology, with the rest of the students in my grade. That wouldn't have been so bad, but I got stuck in the class with the worse teacher in the school. Also, as it turned out, I didn't have a talent for Biology. I had to work for my grades.
Add that to the fact that the teacher was senile and should have retired at least five years ago.
I got a C- on my first test. I had actually studied pretty hard for it, and gone in expecting at least a B.
Not a C-.
I ripped up the test as soon as the class ended, not even bothering to pay attention when the senile teacher went over the answers. I might have pretended I was shredding the teacher's face along with the test.
The next few weeks were rough. Harder was doing the reading and studying. It felt like the world was against me. I couldn't even look at my book.
I got an F on the next test.
My parents got a phone call, because a C- was high enough that I could continue playing basketball, but an F was an official warning. A second F and I wouldn't be able to play. Period.
They got me a tutor and I brought my grade up to a B- by the end of the year. The tutor was pretty decent, and he was a teacher at another school district, which had helped.
But, the dread at opening my textbook? At even looking at it?
I felt a little like that right now. As much as I wanted to play on my own, I was terrified that I wouldn't be any good.
Liliss was decent, but I was the former host of Temrash 252/114 who'd broken down in six months.
I had to work for three months just to control my body for two hours.
What if I'd lost my talent for basketball? Or, not lost, exactly, but couldn't reach it? What if, like so much else, Temrash had stolen it from me?
(Take it slowly, honey,) Liliss urged, withdrawing her hold over my body, leaving me standing there.
(Right,) I agreed.
I dribbled the ball, alternating between my right and left hands. I didn't miss, which was encouraging, even though dribbling a basketball was pretty basic. If I couldn't have done that...
As I dribbled, pacing around the driveway, I felt the almost forgotten sense of happiness at being on the court. Well, okay, I wasn't on the court, but I was playing. Sort of. I was handling the ball on my own, at any rate. Without the aid of a Yeerk.
I took a shot, not a three pointer, and definitely not a jump shot, but a shot all the same. I missed by a hair, but I ran after the ball and tried again. It went in. Good.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and continued to practice. I pretended that I wasn't a Controller, I just hadn't played in awhile. I was out of practice and rusty, but I still had the basic skills.
At least, I told myself I did.
Liliss did, anyway, through me. So, they were there, right? Whatever she could do through my body, I should be able to do.
So much for not thinking about my Yeerk.
(Relax,) Liliss murmured. (Try to enjoy this. Playing. Whatever you can't do now, you will build up to.)
Like most of her advice, it made sense. Really, it was all stuff that I would have told myself, had I been stupid enough to quit the team without a Yeerk inside my head. Start slowly, focus on what works, use positive reinforcement.
I'd even given this advice to Jake on several occasions.
I took a deep breath, and tried to follow her/my advice. To just enjoy the whole process, of getting back into the spirit of practicing.
I didn't attempt my jump shot at the end of my practice, but I had managed two back to back three pointers.
Also, I didn't feel exhausted. Even though, glancing at my watch, it had been two and a half hours.
I wouldn't overdo it. Not with basketball. It was almost time for dinner, anyway, and I should shower beforehand. Especially if I didn't want to hear any questions from my parents or Jake about how I was doing with playing.
(They'd be proud, if they knew,) Liliss gently chided me.
(Maybe, but first, they'd think I'd gone crazy if I told them about Yeerks. Which I'm not gonna do, because...you know,) I finished, a little lamely.
(Yes, I know,) she answered, a little more somberly.
(Still. It wasn't a bad first practice,) I allowed, heading upstairs. (Thanks. I mean, for helping me.)
(Any time, Tom,) Liliss assured me.
"You're shooting hoops again?"
I nearly dropped the ball I'd been dribbling.
Honestly, my playing without Liliss in charge, had gone from my infestation level of "that kid has a major gift and could go pro" to "pretty good".
I could make a three pointer at least three out of four times, but my jump shot needed a lot of work.
Liliss was sure that I'd be back at my old level of skill before the next season started. I sure hoped so, because if I didn't improve by then, she'd have to take control at least some of the time.
I'd tried to keep my practicing a secret from Jake and my parents, especially when I was in control, but it looked like the cat was out of the bag, as it were.
Also, just seeing Jake look at me with that disbelief in his face made me want to...something. I wasn't sure what.
No, I knew. Hug him. Not that he'd let me.
(May I?) Liliss asked.
(Sure, go ahead,) I answered, knowing that I wouldn't be able to sound like myself around Jake.
I felt her take loose control, then hug me.
"Yeah, I was going to go out for the team next year," she told Jake, shrugging my shoulders. "I've missed playing more than I thought."
Jake raised his eyebrows. "What about The Sharing?"
"I can do both, Midget," Liliss laughed. "Of course, I might have to skip out on homework. Think my teachers will mind too much?"
Midget laughed and rolled his eyes at me. "Right."
"Look," Liliss added, "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for all those times I nagged you to join. I mean, you went to the barbecue and it wasn't for you. I should have accepted that. I was kind of a jerk, and, well, I'm sorry."
Jake shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the ground. "It's cool that you like it. It's just not for me." He looked up at me. "I guess I'm not big on joining large groups."
Had Temrash been in control, he would have pointed out that there were plenty of smaller group activities in The Sharing. Fortunately, he was long dead.
"Yeah, and that's cool. So, look, I won't bug you anymore. And I'm sorry. We cool?" she asked.
Jake nodded. "Yeah, we're good, Tom. Thanks."
Liliss dribbled the ball. "Want to play? I can show you some of my classic moves. Hey, it could get you on the team next year."
Jake looked at the ball, then at me. "Okay."
They played for a little, me watching intently as Liliss tried to show Jake how to do a three point shot, along with some other fairly basic moves. Occasionally, I took over with the playing, but not too much. My abilities were below Liliss', and Jake would notice if I suddenly got noticeably worse.
Anyway, Jake left about fifteen minutes or so, using the excuse of having a ton of homework. Liliss put an arm around his shoulder and messed up his hair, which resulted in a momentary painful look before he returned to normal.
Evidently, things still weren't right between us.
Liliss and I practiced basketball again the next day, after Liliss and I returned home from her feeding and a Sharing meeting. I'd spent the meeting asleep in my mind, awakening only about five minutes before returning home.
(What happened this time?) I asked, still a little groggy.
Liliss shrugged. (Just a regular meeting with potential associate members and full ones. Visser Three wasn't there, but Sub-visser Eight was.)
(Sounds almost fun, if you don't know about the whole slug invasion,) I quipped.
The thing was, those kinds of meetings usually were. Game nights, barbecues, even community service had a cheerful element to it. We were all happy people, wanting to have fun and make the world a better place. Who could say no to that?
Liliss gave me a mental hug in response. A level two hug.
After dinner, where Dad told a funny story from work, and Jake made this weird comment about how nice everything was and how he hoped nothing ever happened to us (Liliss commented that the tiramisu was making Jake mushy), Liliss took me outside to practice basketball.
We'd finished our homework in study hall earlier, and there was at least two hours of light out.
"You want to play?" Liliss asked Jake, once we'd taken our dishes up to the sink for Mom to wash.
But Jake just shook his head. "I got a lot of homework."
"Since when," Liliss asked, teasingly, "do you choose homework over playing basketball with your favorite brother? Come on, just fifteen minutes."
Jake's face went...I don't know. Dark. Or, at least, distracted.
"Like I said," he answered, almost coldly, "I've got a lot of homework."
(I don't get it,) I complained, as Liliss shrugged and walked my body outside. (We apologized, didn't we? And we haven't been saying anything about The Sharing, except completely in passing. Like, oh yeah, I just had a meeting. I know that Temrash was a total jerk, but Jake used to be a lot more easygoing.)
Liliss gave me a mental shrug. (Well, he's a teenager, now, and maybe he was more hurt than he let on. Give him time. He'll come around.)
As there wasn't a better explanation, and I couldn't think of much else we could do, I figured we'd just have to wait.
Over the next several weeks that followed, everything continued to improve. My hold over my body reached four hours. My basketball skills, while still not where they were pre-Temrash, were heading in that direction. I didn't even need Liliss to start off in control, to ease me into playing. I sometimes went as long as two weeks without having a nightmare. Even when I did, Liliss could ease me back to sleep with a level two or three mental hug, along with talking it out with her. She was a great listener.
I could have been really happy, for the first time in almost two years. I could have accepted that I might still be a Controller, but now, I had a Yeerk who cared about me. Who gave me control, and who wanted the best for me. Not just because it made it easier for her to control me, but because she wanted me to be happy, even if she couldn't give me total freedom. I knew that this wasn't her fault.
The problem, the one thing that kept me from feeling totally at peace, was that I was no closer to Jake. Emotionally, anyway. We'd always been close, and Temrash had ruined things between us. Jake didn't even know about the Yeerks, about what some of them did to their hosts, but he knew enough to stay away from The Sharing. At one point, him staying away from me would have given me hope, because it meant that he was that much less likely to be captured. Now that "I" was no longer going to infest him, I wished I had him back. I missed him. Whatever we did, whatever we said to him, it seemed like there was this wall between us. Or a door, more likely. My kid brother wanted nothing to do with me.
Yeah. Things weren't getting any easier between the two of us.
Even worse, Jake also didn't look like he used to. He'd grown a few inches, but so had I, so I was still about a head taller than him. While I wouldn't say he'd lost weight, and he definitely wasn't underweight, he probably should weigh more. I might have worried more that he'd gone on some diet, especially after those crazy days where he'd eaten everything in the house, or practically. But, he ate breakfast and dinner with the rest of us, and his portions seemed to be normal. If he was skipping lunch...well, I wasn't around to see it.
If my parents were worried, they hadn't said anything to me.
Almost as worrying was the fact that he looked...pale. Not like vampire pale, but...well, I wasn't sure. I had a feeling he wasn't getting enough sleep.
No, I knew he wasn't getting enough sleep, because our rooms were practically right next to each other, and sometimes, I could hear him yelling in his sleep. Nightmares, probably.
Liliss and I had gone in to check on him, one night, but he'd looked so scared and, honestly, embarrassed, that it had been too awkward for all of us. He'd told us he'd had a dream where he was giving a school presentation but didn't have clothes on. Liliss had reassured him it was a typical "coming of age" dream. That he was officially a teenager. But, like I said, he just wanted us to leave his room. To be fair, that's not the kind of dream anyone really wants to talk about, normal as it is.
But, we hadn't gone back since.
Then, everything changed when Aftran joined the Peace Movement.
Author's note:
Tom's story about his math class is a combination of my real life experience with high school geometry (tough classes plus inept teachers generally result in poor grades, regardless of the effort put in by the student) and college science. I figure that Tom's love of basketball would, similarly, manifest itself as fear of playing after going so long without being able to, and having such a reputation for being skilled at the game. Not a love/hate relationship, but perhaps a love/fear one.
I know next to nothing about sports, so if my scenes where Tom practices lack any technical correctness, well, all I can say is that I hope I got to the heart of it, and I will certainly never write "sports fiction" as a genre.
Thanks for reading-now, please, take a few minutes and leave written feedback!
